


The Death Houses

by whispers_in_the_wind



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Ghosts, Horror, Mild Gore, Multi, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 18:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15779463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispers_in_the_wind/pseuds/whispers_in_the_wind
Summary: This is an original work that I decided to post, hoping some of you guys might find it interesting. If anybody wants to read it, I'll start updating on a schedule. The story takes place in a universe with ghosts and the paranormal. It follows the members of the motley crew known as Agency O.





	The Death Houses

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind it's not edited (yet!). I hope you enjoy!

The house at the end of Aubergine Trail sagged with the weight of a hundred forbidden secrets left behind years before. It’s floorboards, which moaned when stepped on, whispered to each other the tale of unfaithful husbands. Mirrors across the estate remembered the reflections of young girls and old men alike from when they weren’t tarnished with age. The gramophone in the lounge hummed tunes long forgotten, needle aching to play something besides a forlorn memory.  
Ghosts, especially in the town of Myriad, were not uncommon. They lingered on street corners, wearing the same clothes and holding the same joint or bottle or cigarette between the same misty fingers. They rarely spoke, and only to those looking to hear. The desperate few who thought luring a spirit to share its secrets was a good idea lingered with ghosts, waiting for their fingers to turn grey.

-

Amity dragged her legs so much, she was practically walking on her knees. The tall guy in the back, as Ambrose was usually called, looked like he was trying to calculate the slope of every plant in Ms. Ream’s garden. Jean was picking at his nails, and Tate had his eyes fixed on the doormat. The motley crew. Agency O.  
Amity awkwardly stepped up to the door and knocked sharply twice. A woman whose hair was grey at the roots wearing a flowery apron opened the door. She was holding a baby with fat legs in one arm and a laundry basket in the other.  
“Ammie! Thank you for coming, we were starting to think that you might have forgotten!” The woman chuckled. Amity uncomfortably shifted her weight from one leg to the other.  
“We didn’t forget, Ms. Reams. Where is the ghost?”  
“Straight to business, I see,” Ms. Reams said jokingly. “It’s by the pool.”  
She lead the four through a chipped paint house with toys and cardboard boxes scattered across the rooms.  
“Are you moving?” Tate asked, trying to be polite.  
“No, dear,” Ms. Reams explained as they neared the small backyard, “We’re almost settled in here. Oh, here he is!”  
“The pool” was a desolate kiddie pool with leaves floating in it’s grey water. Next to it, flickering in the midday sun, was a specter with a round stomach, small eyes, and overalls. It made a motion to step forward, then disappeared into the air and landed back where it started, staring at the group blankly from on top of a smiling rubber duck.  
“Shhhhh,” Ms. Reams urged, bouncing her baby as he began to wail at the sight of the ghost.  
“Can you really get him out of the yard?”  
“Of course, ma’am, we’re professionals!” Jean said. Amity glared daggers at him, but turned to Ms. Reams with a weak smile.  
“Yes, of course, we just have to find what’s tying him here.”  
“Well,” Ms. Reams said, retreating back into the house with a wary look at the transparent man, “I’ll leave you to it.”  
As she headed back into the house, Tate pushed his glasses up on his nose and furrowed his eyebrows.  
“Has anyone else realized that we have no idea who this guy is and no way to get him to go away?”  
“Sure we do,” Jean said, “Just send the bones to the Company and call it a day, right?”  
“No, you nitwit, because we don’t know whose bones are tying the damn spirit here. We have to dig them up before we can send them away, remember?” Amity said with a tone of deep exasperation, crossing her arms and giving him a pointed glance.  
“Relax. I researched the house,” Ambrose said with a hint of smugness in his deep voice, carefully moving closer to the beach ball in overalls they were trying to banish. “This is an easy job, okay? In, some digging, and out. I think the bones belong to a Mr. Cobwell, farmer back when this dirt was actually being planted. He lost most of the property by losing all his money in casinos, as far as I can tell by the newspaper I picked up in the library.”  
“You read?” Jean said with a tone of mock surprise. “If this is so easy, where are the bones, genius?” He poked Ambrose in the stomach, and the taller boy flicked him in the head.  
“Apparently he died of a heart attack, but I think his money was stolen shortly before and that’s why he’s sticking around. If I had to guess. He rotted and nobody really noticed, so I’m guessing they’re still in the house.” He stated this all casually like bones rotting, forgotten and swallowed by a house, were a topic of everyday conversation. Tate, meanwhile, made a face.  
“Ew. Old man slime.”  
“Technically at this point it would have dried-”  
“Shut up! Let’s just find the bones, okay? They’re probably in the house somewhere,” Amity snapped, glaring at the boys. “Jeez, who pissed in your cereal?” Jean shot back. Tate held up his hands. “Relax, guys. Let’s just do this job, okay?” He pleaded. Amity groaned. “Okay, we can look for bones in the house. Tate and Ambrose, you two try the upstairs. I’ll go with Amity,” Jean decided. “No way am I exploring anything with you, beetle-brain,” Amity told him. “That’s not even clever. Up your game, ‘Ammie’,” he shot back. “Guys!” Tate shouted. They rolled their eyes, and together the group walked towards the house.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed, or recommend to some friends even? Thank you! <3


End file.
